Sun Dance JL Gross September 9, 2013 Six AM had come and gone fifteen minutes ago. With little urgency I grabbed my purse and stared at the laptop on my desk, idly wondering if I would bring it home or leave it. I left it. Sweater on, I opened the door, trading the building of waking animation for the chilly August dawn. Outside the clouds lazily grazed across the sky like cows on a pasture. The faintest glimmer of light stretched from the Sierras to the water tower at the center of the base as I drove past. Exiting the base I turned left on Madison Avenue, the quickest route home. Armed with my sunglasses, I watched the dance unfold, paying more heed to the sky than the road. The ribbons of tender pink sunlight poured over the peaks, casting dancing shadows across the heavens, sweeping away the darkness to make way for the Morning Queen. Up a small rise overlooking the Sacramento Valley, the sun hides behind a cloud twirling her silver baton. A wide circle brought me onto the low-set highway for a brief intermission, giving the heavenly mistress time to prepare her next act; no, her next regime for she had claimed all but the deepest of seas as hers in the first. The Greenback exit rose above the rooftops, the ramp facing the sun in full defiance—or perhaps in arrogance—to the sun. The first glimpse stained her image to the backs of my eyelids. The strings of the violin escape Pandora’s safe-haven into my heart opening emotion and truth that what I have seen can never be seen again, and will never be unseen. At the stop I snap a picture and another, though my phone’s camera—however advanced technology has become—is forever inept to capture the full beauty of the kaleidoscoping image. Another click. The light turned green. Unable to take enough in, I took a detour at the next light and continued on oak-lined Auburn. The sun was now high enough for the rays to penetrate the leaves, perfectly choreographed with Jennifer Thomas’ “Illumination” which plays like a live symphony through the Civic’s new speakers. I raced into the light, all the time knowing the dance would soon end; that, at any moment, the familiarity of the drive would signal my hands to turn the wheel and continue down a busier street until the car stopped across from the contemporary church across from my pine-lined apartment complex. Home again I rushed through the pale living room and flung wide the curtains to the balcony. A fiery wave of light burst into the room and from the only balcony with an unhindered eastward view—my balcony—I watched the grand finale. When at last the sun was at full sail in her ocean of blue, I closed the curtains and went to my bedroom where the light glowed dimly through a dark blue curtain. A small comfort allows me to rest, assured the star performer will be back again.
Posted on: Thu, 12 Sep 2013 06:47:12 +0000
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